Fortress Of Speculation Zootopia Shorts - Season 1
by Lord52's Speculation Fortress
Summary: The following is a series of short stories set in a universe based on Disney's Zootopia(2016). Each story follows a different, small group of characters over a brief space of time, all providing some background to and hinting at a larger story titled "Deliverer One Lost". At the back is the first draft of the main story, a teaser of sorts ending with the blurb for DOL.
1. Part One: The Prototype

**Foreword**

In 2005, an enigmatic sheep tests out prototype ordnance.

* * *

 **The Prototype**

In an empty shooting range, a sheep sniper presses a rifle hard up against his shoulder, taking aim.

 _Crack! Click-clack. Crack! Click-clack._

The marksmammal's right hoof was a blur, reciprocating the gun's bolt in a flash after each round fired, the other holding it steady so as not to disrupt his sight-picture. After a brief pause, the sniper set his sights on some metal swing targets.

 _Crack! Click-clack. Ping! Crack! Click-clack. Ping! Crack! Click-clack. Ping! Tink._

' _Out._ ' he thought. Trotting back toward the lockers, the sheep noticed a timberwolf neatly placing a smallish case on a table.

The predator looked up and, seeing the sheep, he called out. "Riflemammal Doug Ramses?"

"Yeah, that's me." Came the extremely casual reply, sounding emotionless but not monotonous. Doug then pointed to the case, "Is that it?"

The wolf nodded emphatically. "Yup it sure is. The XM2005 APCG! Fresh out of the lab."

The sheep's expression was unchanged, he didn't react at all. Placing the rifle in a locker, Doug took the case and opened it, examining it's contents.

He reached in and pulled out a vaguely pistol shaped object, turning it over, getting a good look at it. He turned to look directly at the representative, expression unchanged.

"Whaddaya think? Pretty neat, eh?" Asked the cheerful Canid.

It was bad enough that he was a predator, this wolf was just too happy. "It's tiny. It's a pistol, I'm a _rifle_ -mammal."

"Oh for God sakes" Said the wolf as he adroitly seized the case and handgun-thing from Doug. With distinct flamboyance, he retrieved two cyllindrical items from the case: a tube he promptly screwed on the end and a riflescope that affixed _itself_ to the smooth top of the pistol.

Something of an expression of shock briefly spread across Doug's face. He snatched the pistol back and started fiddling with the optic, trying to pull it off.

"Hey! Take it easy! It's expensive!"

Doug stopped abrubtly, the scope sitting twisted on the hadgun's top surface. His look of amazement returned briefly as the optic aligned itself with the pistol's barrel.

"H-how does it do that?" He inquired, squinting at the seemingly animate rifle scope.

"Well," said the wolf, straightening his tie, "It's a frictionless, semi-contactless, catchless mounting system. It eliminates the need for rails and halves the process of sighting-in. It's potential applications are endless – but for now this is the only practical example."

"Hmph" Doug released the scope with a button, almost chuckling when the optic reunified itself with the gun as he let go.

"So. Want to fire it?"

"What else is there to do? _"_

"I'm going to take that as a _yes_." Said the wolf representative, lifting a crate onto the table and pulling out an irridescent can and a box of little capsules that looked like glass beads.

The predator raised the can. "Compressed air." In his other paw, he scooped up and pawful of the bead things. "Ammunition. Well, _dummy_ ammunition."

Doug grabbed a pellet to inspect it. It wasn't hard, it wasn't soft – it was somewhere oddly between the two.

"You see, it's a fluid dispersal system, a way of delivering things like tranquilizers, irritants like pepper spray..." Explained the representative.

After looking decidedly thoughtful Doug remarked "I could also see terrorists using it to deliver chemical weapons."

"Well... Yeah but let's not be pessimistic."

Doug zoned out as the wolf continued ramble, harping on about the can of air, drivelling for what felt like hours about polymers, all while he 'set up' the gun. Oddly enough, when he was finished, he passed the firearm back to Doug without a word, gesturing towards the target range.

Despite it's small, slightly awkward size, the sniper quickly found a comfortable way of holding the prototype. Taking aim, Doug gave the item's trigger a solid pull. He Quickly and quietly emptied the gun's 3-round internal magazine, reloaded and repeated the process.

Doug stood up wordlessly and once again regarded the small 'firearm'. He turned to the expectant representative.

"What's the verdict?"

"Well, It's not up to me. I don't think you'll be getting a contract."

"Wh-what?" The exuberant wolf was dumbstruck.

"Personally, I'm very impressed. It's quiet, pinpoint and the rounds seem to travel at an immense speed – it puts any other air powered weapon I've used to shame." Doug paused briefly. "I can't leave anything out of my report, however."

"I... Don't understand." Said the predator, slowly taking the XM2005 from Doug and returning it to it's case in a way that was thusfar out-of-character.

"If this weapon and it's unique ammunition type were to get in the wrong trotters, anything could happen. Chemistry is a hobby of mine, there are dozens of chemical agents alone that could be abused through this."

"I get it. Thanks for your help."

* * *

 **End Notes**

This was the first full short story I was actually happy with. It's also the first to be planned properly but that has _nothing_ to do with it.

I really enjoyed working with Doug's sub-psychopathic demeanor, pairing that up with a flamboyant and excitable predator. An idea of polar opposites and the the way they both got sick of each other was fun.

As for the whole scope thing, it's one of the things that got me into the film. When I was conceptualizing the story this short contributes to, I was doing research on Doug's gun. I noticed that despite scenes depicting the weapon used with an optic there were zero mounting points of any kind.

At the same time I also wondered, 'where did he get it from?'. I noted the amount of scuffing and scratching all over it, suggesting how well used it is.


	2. Part Two: The Findlay Revelation

**Foreword**

Shortly after Bellwether is arrested, Dr. Madge Honey Badger is released from custody to lead the team desperately trying to cure sick mammals.

* * *

 **The Findlay Revelation**

A full score of lab coats watched screens and enclosures in a dimily lit observation room, muttering frustratedly. Simply knowing the origin of a toxin did not mean you could reverse it's effects straight away.

A fluffy silver and black furred cat rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "It just doesn't coalesce." He said.

"And it won't unless you get some sleep." Said a nearby Honeybadger, placing a paw on the feline's shoulder.

"It's not that simple, Madge."

The badger just groaned. "What do we have so far?"

The bespectacled cat shuffled through papers, clicked through some screens and typed harshly on the keyboard.

Whilst doing so he began to speak: "We have a case that occurred years ago – sent in by that rabbit that uncovered the plot."

"...And?"

"Somebody ate a whole bulb and went cuckoo crazy. Scratching, biting and general aggression. Weird stuff for a bunny."

As tired as the rest, Dr. Honeybadger had to process for a minute. "That's not unlike what he have here and now. Mr. DiCaprio scratches, Otterton bites and they're all 'generally aggressive'."

"There's another variable: Duration of symptoms," took a breath, "In that old case, 'Terry' was fine though shell-shocked after a day or so. Some of our patients have been afflicted for at least 6 months and show no signs of getting better."

Another doctor came over with a tray of coffees, Madge made no hesitation to seize a cup. Taking a sip, she immediately dropped her shoulders and gave a heavy sigh of relief.

"Better already... Now, what doesn't coalesce? Terry took one raw, our patients were darted with a distilled/concentrated serum." She said.

The cat was himself taking a hearty swig out of a take-out cup. "The comparison of chemicals extracted from a 'raw' bulb and the recreation of Major Ramses serum were inconclusive: They were _identical_."

A timberwolf came back from the breakroom looking pissed, he let out an obvious huff as he sat down. Madge stepped over to him.

"What's up, Carrson?"

"Some twit left an open jar of garlic in the bloody fridge." Waving a clawed digit in the air he added, "and when I find out who did it..."

The cat stood up quick, paws on his desk, sending his chair end over end behind him. He turned with a swish, causing a dozen sheets of paper to take flight around him.

"That's it!"

Dr. Honeybadger rushed over, asking "what's it, Niko?"

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "Garlic!"

"Garlic?" she said, taken aback by the sudden physical contact.

"Yes! Garlic! And onions too!" An awkward look spread across the cat's face as he untensed his paws. "Sorry, Madge. I..."

"Never mind that now, what're you on to?"

Niko released the still slightly bewildered badger and paced over to a large whiteboard, promptly erasing the notes inscribed on it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Called out a doctor on the far side of the room.

"Making space. Your 'notes' were wrong anyway."

After drawing crude bulbs on the board, he turned to the audience.

"What do we know about onions?"

"They stink?" Said one.

"They have layers?" Said another.

"They make you cry?" Said Dr. Carrson

Niko snapped his fingers in the wolf's direction. "Yes! Now, why is that?"

"Because you cut them...?"

It probably dawned on all of them just how tired they were, endlessly trying to cure twenty-odd savage mammals.

"Okay. Forget the onions. When you crush garlic, what happens?"

Madge gasped quietly then stepped forward. "A chemical reaction releases a repellent odour!"

Pointing with a whiteboard marker, the cat said "Precisely."

"And the same thing must happen when you crush Midnicampum Holicithias. But that doesn't explain the durational inconsistency." She said through a furrowed brow.

"I've worked that out too."

Madge stepped closer to him and said "well of course you have." She glanced around the room at the sleep deprived doctors before saying to Niko, "go on then."

The bespectacled feline smiled. "When we 'extracted' samples from raw night howlers, we crushed them first. I objected to this method, and took some samples of my own - more carefully."

He drew three things on the board: Pure, Distilled, Crushed. He pressed the cap back onto the marker with a 'click' and turned back to Madge, ignoring the group of doctors trying to pay attention.

"When pure, the active chemicals are stable. They'll stay like that as long you don't disturb the bulb. Crushed is a totally different story, a complete chemical reaction releases a toxin that drives a mammal up the wall – _temporarily_."

Dr. Honybadger pointed to the middle of the board, "what about 'distilled'?"

"It's like incomplete combustion, you know, Carbon monoxide. It's an incomplete reaction of the constituent chemicals leading to a semi-stable version of the toxin."

While Niko and Madge were discussing over the whiteboard, a lab coated springbok leant over to whisper to Dr. Carrson: "We're not really needed at this point, are we?"

Carrson narrowed his eyes and whispered back, "no, I'd say not."

"Hmph."

Madge came to a conclusion. "It's that stability that leads to the indefinite duration."

"Hmm. Yes." Said Niko in response.

"So we'd just need to introduce an agent that would complete the reaction, break down the chemicals and the predator should be returned to normal!"

"I certainly hope so."

Madge turned to the other doctors. "Okay. We need to get the practical teams on this. Everybody else, you know what to do. And somebody get on the line to Mayor Mousawitz! He'll want to hear this."

The dreary room came alive with lab coats rushing back and forth, equipment spun up and interns sent on coffee runs. Dr. Honeybadger turned to Niko, who was watching the hustle and bustle with tired interest.

"You're a genius, Nikolai." She said, wrapping her arms around the cat in a warm hug.

Niko welcomed and returned the hug, saying "Just doing my job."

Madge stood back a little. "An excellent one at that. God, I could kiss you."

"Well..." The feline adjusted his glasses. "Why not?"

"Oh. Well..." Madge didn't finish, she just smiled, gave Niko a pat on the shoulder and walked away, finding something to do.

* * *

 **End Notes**

The reasoning behind the title of this short is _classified_.

I threw a reference to Vince Mousawitz in as a nod to The Stinky Cheese Caper - to show my respect for canon.

I had to do this as a short story because this kind of exposition had no place in the novel-length story I'm writing. I feel obligated to mention that Niko is not the primary OC, there really isn't one. Each fleshed out OC exists as a vehicle for the plot - and I have to think about sequels!


	3. Part Three: Green And Red

**Foreword**

An unassuming timberwolf acclimatises to his first deployment in the late 90's

* * *

A convoy of three military trucks chugged sluggishly through a desert trail, passing the occasional gully or patch of dry grass. The drivers had grown tired of navigating the repetitive landscape. The gunners got sick of scanning the rocky horizon. The passengers didn't bother looking out the window just to see sand.

A youthful looking Timberwolf sat in the back of the middle truck, an embroidered label on his fresh, clean and thusfar unscathed shirt carried the text "PEARCE". He held a rifle loosely in his paws, it was, just like him, shiny and new.

Pearce looked around the interior of the vehicle until he caught sight of a lieutenant staring him in the eyes. His blank expression turned to concern.

The soldier spoke. "Welcome to the hotzone, greenhorn. You've just been assigned to hell on Earth."

Pearce could only blink.

The soldier leaned forward. "You will see things even nightmares dread seeing. It will make you a heartless killer or send you running home to momma'," he paused, "with soiled pants and less dignity than a goat wearing crocs."

"Don't get his hopes up." Came a voice from the front.

The first soldier thumped the front seat. "Come on man, you said you'd play along!"

" _if_ I thought it was funny."

The young wolf just sat, quiet and thoroughly confused. The soldier grinned and offered a pawshake, Pearce hesitantly accepted.

"I'm Flapjack - It's a long story. The driver's called Mr. Spork and up there on the gun is Finnegan."

Pearce managed to speak. "Finnegan sounds pretty plain..."

The Wildebeest gunner dropped from his perch.

"Finnegan, begin again." He said. "Because every day it's the same feckin' thing, yeah? Get up, drive through the desert, go to bed."

Pearce nodded slowly as 'Finnegan' mounted the machine gun once again.

The liuetenant shook his head. "He's right kid, nothing ever happens out here."

No sooner had Flapjack Finished speaking that a massive ball of flame erupted from beneath the truck at the front of the convoy. The vehicle sailed into the air, turning end over end. The middle truck swerved uncontrollably, eventually hitting a ditch with a jolt. The truck bringing up the rear could do nothing to avoid the tumbling mess that was truck number one crushing it.

Finnegan opened fire all around, as if in response, the truck was hit by a hail of bullets. From inside the truck, Pearce couldn't see a thing.

The machine gun stopped firing. The liuetenant shook the gunner's arm, only to have the entire body slide limply down from the perch. Finnegan was dead, Pearce could see the neat round hole in the ungulate's forehead, red liquid trickling in spurts.

"Come on kid, we have to get out of this truck!" Yelled Flapjack

The young wolf just stared, wide-eyed.

Flapjack kicked open the door on his side and leapt out. He turned back and yelled into the cab, "come on!"

"Y-yes sir!" Pearce picked himself up and started to clamber across the seats – and a bloody corpse – to the dust filled clearing beyond.

"I think I see some bushes at 2'Oclock, we can-" The Liuetenant shook and twisted as he was hit by several rounds, his body crumpling at the foot of a cloud of red mist.

Pearce almost leapt backwards. He pushed himself hard up against the opposite door. At this point he could hear mammals outside, calling out in a foreign tongue.

The door behind him gave way suddenly, he tumbled to the ground, now face-to-face with a very angry looking jackal that waved a firearm in his face, barking unintelligibly. Pearce's assailant raised his voice further, taking aim and preparing to take the shot.

A gunshot among gunshots rang out and the jackal's wails turned to a choking gurgle as the canid quite literally bit the dust.

A wool-clad ungulate seized Pearce by the shoulder. "We need to get you away from this truck."

Bullets tore up the ground around them as the two dashed across the sand and crouched behind a dune.

"So why did I have to get away from the truck?"

The truck imploded violently.

Unmoved, the sheep replied: "That's why."

Pearce's saviour calmly handed him a rifle then brandished his own.

"Wh-what do I do?"

"Survive."

* * *

 **End Notes**

The reason I uploaded two within a short space of time is because I've already written most of the shorts, including this one. I just have to edit them a tad to post them.

You probably gathered the middle eastern vibe I had going here, it's why I picked the golden jackal for the species of the assailants. You see, it had to be a predator and it had to be something from around that area.

Just like in the 'The Prototype', the folks here would be using bolt-action rifles. Why? Long story.


	4. Part Four: L-PDU Mark I

**Foreword**

A superfluous techno-babblish short full of one-dimensional throwaway characters. " _An abysmal ending to season one._ " - Master Salad

* * *

"To business," said a proud looking engineer.

"To business!" Was the response from a crowd of three.

Four mammals in a half-empty warehouse made a celebratory toast over a freshly sealed parcel, the contents of which really saved their skins. They all took a good swig of champagne and started high-fiving each other.

"Well, Looks like things are on the up for the Soft Materials Group, eh?" Said one.

"Yeah and not a moment too soon." Said another.

A third stopped to look at some papers, then he picked up some prototype garments made from neoprene.

"What's wrong, Ned?" Said the first.

"Nothing, I just think it's kinda weird... Why one custom field uniform wth kevlar vest, for a bunny?"

"Who cares?" Said the one who made the toast, hastily pouring himself more champagne.

'Ned' held up his glass, "I 'spose you're right," he said.

"Hey Wallace," said the first, "Are we dropping this off somewhere, or...?"

The maker of the toast responded. "Mr. Double-u himself is taking it to be sent to Zootopia, down South."

The second one suddenly gulped loudly, "the CEO is coming here?"

"Yeah..." Said Wallace. "Got a problem with that, Smithee?"

The beaver called 'Smithee' said nothing, he just sat down and started biting his nails.

The group continued their celebration with mixed levels of enthusiasm. There was some chit-chat for a while though all of them went silent upon hearing a vehicle of some description pulling up outside. There was a knock at the door. Wallace took it upon himself to greet whoever was there.

"Ah, Mister Watterson, we've been expecting you!" He said, opening the door.

In the doorway, stood a middle-aged arctic fox. He briskly shook Wallace's paw, saying "Morning, glad to be here."

When he had the audience of the rest of the team he said "And in the words of a petty functionary who _thought_ he was out of earshot: 'Always expect a visit from Darth Walden.'"

Wallace quickly retrieved the parcel and handed it to the CEO. "Here you go, sir."

"Ah... Here it is," said Watterson, giving the box a tentative shake, "You know, there's a reason I came by personally..."

The team looked at him with thinly veiled expectancy.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your fine work, accomplishing a difficult task with limited resources – you are a credit to the company." Said the fox, a tad later he added "you too Smithee," patting the highly strung creature on the shoulder.

The sheep called Ned stood and said "With respect, this was just a small, one-off contract. Granted, it's a sweet short-term reward – let's just say I don't think we are out of the woods yet."

The CEO gave a snort of derision. "Well, let's just say I'm not just here to offer congratulations and pick up this parcel."

With a sweep of his white trenchcoat, 'Darth Walden' took the box to his vehicle and returned with some mail tubes and small containers. He gently moved the champagne flutes off the table and laid out the containers and tubes in their place.

The team cautiously started going through the papers in the tubes, Smithee opened a container to sift through it's contents.

"L-PDU Mark two. What does that mean Mr. W?" Asked Wallace, steeped in confusion.

Watterson picked up a container before speaking. "Your next project. We're talking the soft materials' magnum opus."

Wallace muttered under his breath, "develop small scale neoprene-kevlar weave as a replacement for standard neoprene..." He normalised his voice: "What's in the boxes?"

The fox took two cubic objects out the container in his paws. "You remember the mounting system advanced mechatronics sussed out a few years back?"

The team nodded affirmatively for a few seconds, looked at each other and then shrugged their shoulders.

"I'll demonstrate." Walden flicked a switch on both objects, activating blinky blue lights on each. He held one in the air and brought the other to meet it slowly. Now only an inch or two apart, the blue lights changed to solid orange. Watterson let go of one of them – it clicked to the surface of the first, lights blinking green twice with corresponding beeps.

"Ah!" Said all four of the soft materials team with an air of recognisance.

"Now here's a challenge: Seperate the two." Said the CEO as he passed the conjoined objects to the audience. Each team member grunted and groaned with effort tyring to put apart what Walden had yoked together. When it was Smithee's turn, the beaver quickly found and pressed a small button which in turn disrupted the connection.

"Hmph" said Wallace, regarding the aura of calm ingenuity that now surrounded his nervous colleague.

Walden stood up straight, flattened his vest and fixed his tie in order to address the team proper. "Gentlemammals, you're next job, as expressed in the briefing documents before you, is to incorporate this mounting system into neo-kevlar weave for the purpose of creating modular garments."

"But why?" Asked Ned.

"Current Battle Dress Uniforms are lacking in overall versatility, the L-PDU Mark One is the last such garment to be produced by this division. However, the Lagomorph – Patrol Dress Uniform Mark Two will redefine the concept of field uniforms." Explain Mr. Watterson.

It was Wallace who spoke next: "M-mark two? What's mark two?"

Watterson chuckled aloofly. "The job you just finished, that uniform is just the beginning. Now you'll be designing a better one, kevlar weave, serve as a test bed for a whole line of modular BDUs to serve a militant pupose."

Walden Watterson pivoted and almost marched back to his van. He made it all the way out the door before turning to address the Soft Materials team one last time.

"Oh, and before I forget: I've hired ten more engineers and I've processed a beefier funding and budget scheme for this division so any equipment you need – is yours. You might want to a spend a some on redecorating, the grey is a little tired."

The Watterson Engineering and Development Soft Materials Group got to work on the new task.

* * *

 **End Notes**

Yeah, I was a little late getting this one up.

Good giddy gravy this is horribly written... There was going to be two more shorts after this but I've decided not to bother. I'll leave it for season two now that I've got the main book on the way - which I'll start publishing soon.


	5. Part Five: Son of William

**Foreword**

I don't have a good 'blurb' for this one. I've had this one sitting for a while, I wrote it before the other three. I was unsure of how it worked with the rest of my material. However, taking another look, making some tweaks, it fits well.

* * *

 **Son of William**

A middle aged arctic fox walked down a farm driveway, passing a sign marked 'Hopps Family Farm'. He glanced over his shoulder at the bunnies manning a stall on the roadside adjacent to a massive oak. Only one of them looked familiar, and seemed to recognize the aging predator but was unable to recall his name. It's no surprise, he'd visited before, seventeen years ago.

There was one rabbit he met back then whom he knew would not be found on this farm today. _She_ was busy living her dream. The fox was here in pursuit of his dream, even if he'd left it a little late. Reaching the house which was more of an entrance to an institution, he knocked on the door in an adroitly businessmammal-like fashion.

The door opened to reveal a fellow he recognized as 'Stu' who greeted the white furred mogul. "Hi there... Wait. W-walter?"

"Walden, actually." He replied in a husky voice, holding out an arm.

Taking Walden's paw and giving it a firm shake, Stu said: "It's been a long time. Are you here for James? He's uh..."

"Passed on. I know." After a pause he added: "Some time ago, I hear."

"Come in, you can hang your coat up there, you must be sweltering! You want a water?"

"Yes, please. As for the coat, it's much colder up in the North, I'm just so used to having it on. You'd think I'd remember from last time!" He said, neatly dropping his white trenchcoat on a hook.

"Yeah, you got heatstroke didn't you? Say, your voice sounds very different to what I remember."

The fox grimaced in remembrance. "It's a long story. Let's just say age has not been kind to me."

Stu directed Walden to some kind of living room and beckoned him to sit down. The predator straightened his sky-blue waistcoat and sat on a sofa, looking around at various photographs that lined the bookcases and shelves and tables in the room. He gave up counting unique faces once the number hit about fifty.

' _It's quiet... Too quiet for a house with hundreds of inhabitants,_ ' he thought.

"Oh hello there," came a voice, "wait, is that you? William's boy? Wilton, is it?" The businessfox immediately recognised Bonnie as the owner of the voice.

"Walden." He said with a wrinkled smile. "And at the young age of 49."

"Sweet cheese and crackers, how time flies. Are you okay...? Did you want a drink?"

"Well, Stu said he'd get me a water..."

"I'll find out what's going on." She said, turning and pacing off down some winding hallway.

Walden briefly caught sight of Bonnie's purple eyes, a strange trait passed down to somebunny else he had met. A driven individual, with big dreams. What was her name?

' _Judith. How could I forget... The rabbit who cemented my company's presence in Zootopia,_ _albeit unintentionally_ _?_ ' He thought. Remembering that name took him back to when he first met her – the only time they had ever met.

* * *

A 32 year old Walden checked the date on his digital watch: May 5th, 2001. He looked up, taking in the countryside that surrounded the rental car. The vehicle's only other occupant was his father – a caring man, who went to intriguing lengths to avoid the appearance of nepotism.

"Alright, what does that map say, are we in... What's the town called again?" Asked father.

"Bunnyburrow. And I have no goddamned idea. Dad, why don't we just use the satnav, it's what it's there for."

"Son, look at that 'satnav'. Does it have our logo on it? Any stickers? No. Just Asiatic garbage."

"So...?"

"It's not ours, so I don't trust it. Memorize it." Said father, pointing to his temple, exasperatedly.

Walden groaned. "Yes, father. Wait, what about the car? The _Tanuyota Corolla_ we're currently inside of?"

"A necessary evil. You wanna walk all the way to Podunk on a day like this?"

The younger fox frowned at the map's index. "Uh... Podunk is about a hundred miles..." He pointed across the dashboard. "That way... In some area called Deerbrooke County."

"Podunk is an expression. It means... Wait, is Podunk really a place on that map?"

"Yup." Was the concise reply.

"Dear God. Must be hillbunny Hell. Then again, we're headed for a place called _Bunny_ burrow after all. The population is somewhere in the realms of seventy million, I hear.

"What the Hell... Do they not believe in television?" Asked the son.

"Well, I think they do. They would need something to keep themselves entertained in between sessions."

"Eugh." Groaned Walden with a shudder.

It was depraved comedy, but he enjoyed these rare, good times with his dad and got the feeling it wouldn't be long before it was all gone for good.

He suddenly saw a farm gate with the sign he was looking for. "Oh. Here! There, I mean. On the left!"

"Oh. I see it. Let's hope we're not interrupting them, eh?"

Walden grew tired of the risque humour. "Haha, bunnies love sex, so funny. Can you please find something else to satire?"

"Are you getting tired of it? Okay, I guess you just don't have their kind of stamina." Said father with an awful grin on his face.

Walden decided to just ignore his father as they pulled up the gate. They both exited the car in a synchronised fashion, walking down the driveway in the same manner. Jokes aside, the younger fox did wonder how much of a rabbit's 'spare' time was devoted to copulating.

His father turning and putting a heavy paw his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. "Walden, stay here. Don't approach anybody, don't talk to anybody and don't make any sudden moves."

The sudden seriousness took him aback. "What-why?"

"We're not in North Continentia anymore. This is a backwater part of the URC. They do not like our type, they do not trust our type." He said in a frustratedly quiet voice.

"Predators?" Asked Walden.

"Yes, but more specifically, foxes. Our red relatives? They say they're red because they're made by the devil."

Walden could see fear in his father's eyes. "What should I do?"

"Just stay near the car." He said.

The older arctic fox straightened his jacket and walked up to the door of the farmhouse. He gave the door a polite knock and waited for a response. The door opened to reveal a stout male bunny wearing a cap. Walden strained to hear the exchange of greetings but could not. After shaking paws, the rabbit invited the fox into his home.

It was at this point that Walden felt the sensation of dozens of eyes, nay, hundreds of eyes watching him. Glancing at a window, he saw several shapes flit out of view.

' _This is creepy._ ' He thought as he drew his gaze over the fields – there were probably about forty odd rabbits tending crops, some of them lent on their farming tools to have a brief look at the visitors before continuing their work.

Movement in the corner of his eye gave Walden the fright of his life – standing some 10 feet from him was a small bunny.

It seemed rude not to greet the country denizen, so taking a deep breath he said: "H-hello there."

"Hi."

Walden couldn't help frowning a little while regarding the small creature's eye colour: purple. ' _They've gotta be contacs... It sounds like a she... She sounds like a child._ ' He had to ask.

"Hey. How old are you?" He asked, imediately feeling like a line was crossed.

Standing up straight, the bunny confidently answered: "9 years old."

"Hmph." Walden noticed a shiny cardboard badge on the child's blue top – as well as a peaked cap in the same dark blue. "Dress up day?"

"No. Uniform. An officer's work is never done." She said, somehow standing even straighter.

"Ah I see," said Walden, crouching to lean on one knee. "You know, you remind me of my daughter, when she was your age."

"Really? What's her name?"

"Lilith." He said with a sigh. "These days she's a grumpy teenager, self-entitled, listens to punk rock... You get the picture. I take it by your outfit... _Uniform_ , that you want to be a police officer."

"Oh, I know I will. I'll move to Zootopia, where anyone can be anything!"

"Zootopia, huh? I've heard of that city... Neat motto, I feel it."

The little rabbit frowned, thinking of another question, her face lit up: "What do you want to be?"

"I want to be CEO (that means big boss) of my Dad's company one day."

"Then _you_ should go to Zootopia."

Walden pondered the possibilities: "Yes... Zootopia... That's brilliant! From there, the company could spread across the world..."

A mix of disbelief and embarassment spread across the fox's face. "I'm so rude, I haven't even introduced myself. That's rule one of good business, always introduce yourself with a firm pawshake."

"It is?"

"Yep. I'll start." He held out a paw: "Hello. Watterson. _Walden_ Watterson."

Hesitantly, the bunny took his paw it shook it. "Judy Hopps."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Judy. Short for Judith, I presume...?" His voice trailed off as he heard his father's voice, prompting him to look around Judy.

"Sorry, what was your name again?" Asked yet another unfamiliar bunny, this one much older than any of the others seen thusfar.

"Watterson. _William_ Watterson." said the middle-aged fox in the same manner as his son.

"Well I'll see you tomorrow, _William_."

The briefcase brandishing businessfox swiftly returned to his vehicle, coming to an abrupt stop beside his progeny.

"Walden. We're leaving. Now." He said before entering the vehicle, giving Judy a sideways glance.

Walden followed his father with his eyes before turning back to the bunny. "Well, I have to go."

"Will I ever see you again?" The little creature asked.

"Maybe. How's about this. Next time I see you, you'd better be an officer." He said, pointing a finger.

"You'd better be the boss!"

The fox stood up and climbed into the car, saying "I'll try my best," before closing the door.

William pulled the vehicle off the grass verge and headed for town. The silence in the vehicle did not remain unbroken for very long.

"What the Hell was that?" He demanded.

Walden took a moment to compute. "What?"

Gripping the wheel tightly, his father said "I told you not to talk to anybody."

"So, you wanted me to stand there, being rude."

"No... Look. In Renardville, particular circumstances allowed our family to carve out a piece of something, from that, we got to where we are now."

After a brief silence, Walden decided to make a proposal: "While we're here, I think we should look into expanding into Zootopia. It'd be..."

William cut him off with laughter. "What, because it's progressive? Son, this is why I hold back responsibilities from you. Zootopia is just as divided as anywhere. Perhaps worse than home. Complete waste of time."

"We are only in this shithole because the site is adjacent to this shithole." He wasn't done grumbling. "Aaaaand as soon as Professor Ramsbrury and his friend Isaac get here, we can investigate the site, be credited for the greatest archeological find in history and go home with padded pockets."

"Hmph." Was all Walden had to say.

After driving in silence for while, William chuckled and grinned ear to ear. "So how old do they start?"

"What are you talking about?" Asked his son with narrowed eyes.

"You know..."

Walden said "You are disgusting," through an intense grimace.

William turned to face him, his eyes darting between his son and the road. "You were laughing before..."

"This is a child we're talking about. A kid. An innocent kid."

"Since when did you give a shit?" He inquired, eyes just as narrowed as the other's.

"Since I had a daughter." Walden grimaced even harder. "That little girl has big dreams."

"They involve vegetables, I bet."

"You scolded me earlier for what I presume you percieve as not seeing the real state of things. You are just as near sighted, just with different matters."

"Hmph." Was all William had to say.

* * *

With his flashback at an end, Walden got up and wandered over to a nearby side table. In center was a small-ish photograph that caught his eye. He held up the photo in both paws to look closely at it. Purple eyes, black-tipped ears, police uniform.

' _Judith._ _Looking very_ _mature, and yet I can still see that little bunny._ ' Thought Walden, examining the picture. For some reason, seeing her as an officer made him feel a glimmer of pride.

Someone entering the room put the fox into a panic, without thinking, he pocketed the photograph. It was Stu, glass of water in paw. He quietly padded over to pass the drink to Walden.

The fox took a sip before speaking. "Thank you, I needed that."

"You had something you wanted to talk about, Mr. Walden?"

"Yes. James, as you know, accompanied my father, I and two others on a trip because he knew the area well." Explained Walden.

"Uh-huh."

"I know I've left it a while but there was something in his journal he needed me to see but I... Uh... Had to leave. So... I was wondering if I could take a look at the... I mean _his_ journal." Said the fox, thoroughly choking on his words.

Stu answered quite abruptly: "Well, sorry. No can do."

"Wh-what?"

"We don't have it."

"You don't have it...?" He held back a snarl as anger flared within him. "Did you bury it with him or something?!"

"N-no, nothing like that. We gave it to Jude when she was down here last month, you remember our daughter Judy?"

"Yes. I do indeed." He said, again recalling those eyes.

Walden made small talk with Stu for a brief while before saying his farewells. He set a fast pace back to the rental car.

Sitting in the driver's seat, it felt considerably like he was sitting on a photo frame. He reached into his back pocket, sure enough, it was the picture of Judy he accidentaly took. It'd be difficult to explain exactly how he had it, so he just tossed it to one side.

Driving down the road, a thought struck him. Seizing his phone, he hit '2' on the speed dial..

"Lilith, dearest. How's the delivery? Not made yet? Ok... Tell Sidney to meet me at the hotel. We're going to be staying for a while. What do you mean, why? Possibly. Look, while we're here, him and I are going to look into that missing prototype. Ok. Bye."

' _Looks like we're going to meet again._ ' He thought, giving the photo beside him another glance.

* * *

 **End Notes  
**

Yeah it's not my best but hey, it's not my worst. My worst had more profanity and lewd bits. _Literally_ _abhorrent_.

You may be wondering who's number one on Walden's speed dial. No, it's not his [ex-]wife. Number one on _Mr. Watterson_ 's speed dial is a goat named Sidney McFeta, his personal assistant.

I like writing stuff about Walden. Isaac is neat but Walden takes the cake for me. Who's Isaac? You haven't met him yet. Believe it or not it isn't the same Isaac mentioned in this story.


	6. PAP Draft Chapter 1

**Foreword**

The following is my earliest draft of a story that's gone by the title of 'Proof And Predictability' since it's inception in August 2017. The story has come a long way and even has a better title; _Deliverer One Lost_. Since I've written past where I got up to in this draft, I figured it as worth putting somewhere.

* * *

 **Chapter I:** **Hella** **Bar Talk**

It was 7:30 on a cool fall evening. It had been a quiet night at the 'Dave's Dune' bar, a diner midway down the Savanna Central straight. Two unlikely friends shared a table, intently reading a news article.

* * *

Zootopia Weekly Read September 4-10, 2018

ZPD Weak On Bulbs – A 2 Year Problem

 **T** wo years since the infamous prey-supremist plot was uncovered, poisonous flowers are still being found as the cause of various incidents throughout the city.

Mindicampum Holicithias (I apologize if the spelling is incorrect) also known by their alias, 'Night howlers' are a pest repellant bulb grown flower that everybody should know by now. That's not due their utility, their fame or should I say, infamy is due to the rather nasty side effect of reducing a consumer of said bulb to a savage beast, even prey become aggressive, biting and such.

So after the then mayor of the city uses these properties to target predators, to cast them in a bad light and ultimately destroy them (crazy right? Topic for another article...) wouldn't it be a logical idea for the authorities, the 'arm of the law' to crack down on this plant?

Apparently not. It's been 2 years since this hazard went public and what has been called 'mindi' cases show little signs of decline.

Save for a few cringy PSA's featuring the ZPD's token fox last year, the boys in blue haven't lifted a paw towards solving this problem... _Continued on A1-13_

* * *

One of the pair, a european rabbit, stopped reading, scrunched up her face and said, "Well that's not very fair. You aren't just some token fox."

The red fox she spoke to looked thoughtful and replied, "Yeah well I wish they didn't have to bring up those awful PSAs. I thought those were well behind me." His head shook briefly as though he were chasing away a vision, blinking repeatedly. Judy Hopps and Nicholas Wilde were partners in crime – or rather partners in busting crime. Both unique, the first bunny cop and the first fox cop. Together they exposed a seditious plot and saved the entire city, but you already know that story I'm sure.

Movement caught Nick's eye, it was a busboy, he called him over, "Excuse me," the mammal turned, "Yeah, you." The mammal in question, pale ginger tabby domestic cat with a nametag that read 'KEVIN' in bold letters, started towards the table. Domestic cats had a position in society like many other small predators, however cats are known mostly for being self-absorbed, pedantic and uncaring, patronising creatures.

The cat stood a few feet back from the table so he was still visible. "Good evening, sir. What can I help you with?" he asked with an impeccable customer service tone.

Holding up a glass, Nick asked "Can I get a refill on the soda?" he then turned to Judy, "Hey, Hopps, you want anything?" the bunny, engrossed in something on her smartphone looked up and her gaze flicked between the two characters in front of her.

"Hmm...?" after a brief moment you could almost hear the bunnie's head click on to what was happening, "Oh. Um... A donut maybe? Make sure it's small. Last time I ordered a donut it was needless to say, too big."

The cat mutterred as he awkwardly scribbled on a notepad far too big for his paws "Refill, soda... D-o-n ut," his caramel brow furrowed and he looked at Hopps "Uh, th-the only donuts of a size befitting smaller mammals such as ourselves are these little cinnamon dusted ones, we don't normally sell them individually but I-I'm sure we can make a-an exception." Judy nodded in response, the feline then turned and almost jogged to the kitchen. The cat spoke well but Nick couldn't help but notice the stutter that manifested upon the potential of a complication involving the donut.

The two off-duty cops sat silently, though they had the same issue on their minds. The criminal underground had been more active than ever, something was cooking though nobody on the force knew what; hopefully that would change tomorrow evening. The ZPD had been planning a raid for weeks but had nowhere and nowhen to strike. Recently the word on the street spoke of a meeting between high rung crooks and a mysterious character known thusfar only as 'crimelord'.

Judy tossed her phone on the table with a thud and sighed, then her ears shot up "Hey Nick. About this 'crimelord' figure?"

"Did you get an ID? Do we know who he is yet?"

Judy shook her head she spoke, "Nope. Nothing. Not even Mr. Big knows." she started to gesture emphatically "Well, you know How the other day I visited Frufru,"

"M-hmm."

"I figured it was..."

Nick interrupted "Speaking of which, how's Judy?"

Judy frowned and cocked her head to one side, "Who-what?"

"Your godchild? Didn't Frufru name her after you?"

"Oh," she chuckled "That Judy. Yeah. Cute kid, for a shrew I guess..." She shook her head and refocused "Anyway. Where was I?"

Mr. Big was a powerful crime boss in Tundra town, as it happens Mr. Big's granddaughter is also Judy's godchild.

"You figure it was..." Nick reminded her.

With a sharp sweep of her paw she said "Right. So I figured it was as good a time as any to see if Mr. Big knew this 'crimelord' fella" she did air quotes as she uttered the ominous title. "Not only did he know nothing, his eyes even went wide at the mere mention of this... Character, as if he was scared." Judy's own eyes went wide as she was speaking, her deep purple irises contrasting with a sea of white.

At this point Nick's thoughts had started to wander. He thought about the bubbly, likable creature sitting across from him. He then thought about his own personality, deadpan and sarcastic, starkly different from the unpatronising demeanor of Officer Hopps.

A flash of butterscotch caught his gaze once again, the cat busboy had returned with a tray inhand. "One soda for sir and one appropriately sized donut for ma'am" he said as he passed the items to their respective consumers.

Judy had an amazed expression at the fact she could hold the donut in one paw comfortably while Nick lent back on his chair, sipping fresh soda.

"Glad I could help." said Kevin turning away only to come about, "Uh, Ma'am, you wouldn't happen to be ZPD Officer Judy Hopps?"

Regardless of the pulse of nerve ran the length of Judy's spine, she spoke confidently "Yes. I am she." It wasn't uncommon for animals to recognize her in public. What usually happens when animals discover they are talking to a police officer they often tended to get a bit cagey or awkward so a shred of anonymity can go a long way.

"I don't want your autograph or anything it's just... You know, a cop wanting a donut, it's cliché. Kinda funny-cute, you know?" the cat then looked awkward, seemingly knowing he'd just said the trigger word.

Judy took a deep breath. Before she could say her line she noticed in the time it took to draw a breath Nick had stood up from his seat, walked around the table and proceeded to stand over the busboy.

"Yeah. Buddy? You know, you don't do that."

Judy watched to two of them; Nick was noticeably taller then the cat and looked him in the eyes, the cat chillingly staring right back, _were they sizing each other up?_ Seeing this getting out of hand she stood next to the booster seat on her chair to speak. "Nick. It's alright. I'll handle this." Once again she took a breath to say her line only to be undercut by Nick again.

"You don't call a bunny cute, it's..." Nick was soon interrupted too, by the busboy who'd had enough.

"Weird. I know. It's pretty much the same for cats, _buddy_. But I imagine it's worse when you have a big orange mouthpiece following you around."

"M-mouthpiece? Kid, don't you have a job to do?"

"Well, part of my job is to engage with patrons to create a positive environment. What I said was a mere slip of the tongue. And hey, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, you're a cop, aren't you supposed to be making the world a better place? You know what? In a couple o' weeks it won't even matter." before any more shots could be fired the whole room went dark, even the streetlights outside shut off with a dull zap. Vehicles could be heard, screeching to a halt.

It was then, after a brief silence, that voices called out from down the road: "It's a blackout"

"My god, the whole main street's gone dark!"

The occupants of the diner started to murmur, some nervous, others sick and tired of blackouts, however short and inconsequential. Blackouts had become a part of life in the city. It wasn't just one street or block though, entire districts were losing power. Recently, the wall between Tundra town and Sahara square fell prey to the power crisis causing chaos in the two regions. Camels walked the sandy streets clad in coats while sandbags were laid all over the snowy township as the ice began to melt en masse, flooding everything and destroying their novel ice floe based public transport.

The power came back on with an ascending hum, the TV on the wall came to life with static and then resumed normal programming. In much the same way, the animals in the bar gradually went about their business.

Judy stared into space, Nick's gaze was still fixed to the busboy's. Before either of them could speak, a gruff voice rose near them.

"Katurdale." at this, the cat's cool, emotionless expression gave way to fear. "I'll see you in the back." the cat submissively headed for a door next to the serve-over and, turning to Nick, the gruff voiced animal said "And if I see you causin' trouble 'ere again..." The mammal didn't finish his sentence, he just turned away and waddled to the back room.

Judy was still staring into space. She took a deliberate breath and hopped down from the chair "Well. I'm going to mop up that mess." after walking a few feet she turned again "And I don't want my tab full of blueberries... Again." Judy sauntered off in the direction of the back door the other two mammals disappeared through, gaining composure along the way.

Judy pushed through the latch-less door slowly, knowing that knocking wouldn't be heard over the sound of pool cues. She followed the sound of conversation or rather, gruff monologue. Judy had to put a word in, she didn't want the cat whether he lost his cool or not to be fired over Nick getting tetchy.

Turning a corner she met with the two mammals, "Hi, sorry to interrupt..."

The gruff one, who happened to be a beaver turned to face Judy "Ma'am, staff only. Please get out."

"I understand. Please hear me out."

"Fine." the proprietor crossed his arms and stared condescendingly at Judy, possibly not having any comprehension that she is an officer of the law.

She cleared her throat, meanwhile the cat was watching her vexedly. "Things have been a little, stressful, at the ZPD. What with all the blackouts, petty crime has been up. And so, all of us been a little, on edge."

Cogs whirred in the beaver's head "...ZPD?" he looked at the ground, glanced at the busboy and then back to Judy, his arms falling to his sides in awkward realization. "Uh... I'll take your comments under consideration."

"Thank you." Judy then turned to the cat "Sorry..." After an awkward chuckle, she turned and exited the back room into the diner. Glancing back and forth, she couldn't see Nick anywhere.

"Your fox friend went outside" said another staff member, drying a glass. Judy gratefully nodded and jogged for the entrance of the establishment. Outside, she still couldn't see him anywhere. Her long glances up and down the main street were interrupted by a car horn sounding nearby. It was Nick, who was waving from the passenger seat of a patrol car.

"Oh." said Judy, to herself as she stepped towards the vehicle. As she approached the driver's side, Nick lent over and pushed the door open. "Thanks" said the rabbit as she climbed into the towering SUV. Judy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Didn't I lock the car before we went in?"

"Yes. Yes you did."

"So... How did you... Get in, without..." her voice trailed off as she started patting her pockets. She stopped when she heard a jingle, she looked up and, sure enough, dangling from Nicks paw...

"Your keys?" suggested Nick, with a face of smug amusement. Judy swiped them off Nick and prepared to start the car. She repeatedly mumbled '200% patient' over and over.

"I am... 200% patient." pause for effect, "I know you need to practice your pickpocketing for undercover work. But come on now, this is getting inappropriate..."

"You have to admit, I'm getting pretty good."

"You got lucky."

The car was silent for some time as Judy drove up the central straight. Nick stealthily glanced at the driver, _focused on the road_. His gaze flicked to the center panel, seeing his chance he reached for the controls on the stereo head unit...

 _Smack_.

Judy, seeing the red-orange paw move in the dark vehicle, swatted away the would-be turner upper.

"No." she said. "I'm in a Gazelle mood. So if it's Gazelle, then it's a maybe."

Nick groaned. "I worked office with Clawhauser today, and you know how he is... A fox can only take so much Gazelle in 24 hours..." He fought to think of something more extravagant "No, i-in a lifetime!"

"How about _The Velvety Pipes Of Jerry Vole_? On _CD_?"

"Oh ho, very funny, carrots. Very funny." said Nick, reminiscently.

"One last thing seeing as I'm almost at your place, about what happened tonight..."

Nick jumped on the defensive "I can explain!"

"It's a molehill, not a mountain. We're all stressed. Sure, it was hard not being able to explain exactly _why_ we are so strained... But HQ has been planning this raid for weeks. If we broke confidentiality now..."

"Yeah. Not a good career move. It was the same when th-that... Cat got up in my face. I wanted to tell him just what we were up to. Would've done no good but anyway.."

Judy pulled onto the curb, "Casa del Wilde, rest up good ya' dumb fox. We _all_ have a big day tomorrow.

Nick clambered out of the car and, before closing the door said "You too, sly bunny. I don't want you catching Zs when you're supposed to be watching my tail."

Judy pulled away from the curb and headed for the central city, specifically to her apartment building The Grand Pangolin Arms. As she drove Judy thought back to before the night's blackout; the way that the busboy stared right back into Nicks eyes, a resentful, soulless stare. Though, he had a remarkably smooth voice; _I wonder what his singing's like?_

* * *

 **End Notes**

Ultimately, too much happens, it's all over the show. When I wrote this I had no plan whatsoever, I just played it by ear and so I crammed too much in. So much of the stuff feels forced to me.

And also there are too. Many. References!


	7. PAP Draft Chapter 2

**Foreword**

Chapter two of my earliest draft.

* * *

 **Chapter II: Hot Spot**

It was 6 p.m. The following evening, near the Sousten rd. station. Officers of various sizes and shapes were gathered near police vehicles. Chief Bogo glanced over them all, preparing to speak.

Judy had just finished strapping a holster around her slim chest as a [mammal] came over carrying a smallish object in his paw.

"Ever used one of these, Hopps?" He said, indicating the something. It had a white rounded frame with orange stripes, the defining feature a grey pistol grip with a bright red trigger. Judy had carried one briefly once before.

"Good ole' Air Powered Elephant Tranquilizer."

"Well..."

The [mammal] began explaining in a correcting tone: "Not quite. It's the _Watterson Single Shot Air Powered Tranquilizer_. Elephant grade or super heavy duty darts used to be the standard ammunition.

"You probably didn't get the memo, I think you were away, or something. With mammals going savage everywhere, more and more officers started carrying these – with standard SHD darts. There were some... Accidents. An elephant dose puts lions in a coma. Smaller than that? You're dead. Simply put, _you_ would definitely be dead in 30 seconds or less if you got hit with one o' those old darts.

"So they brought in new regulations, a unified mid strength dart rated for use on pretty much anything bar rodents. It has different drugs at lower concentrations than the old elephant spikes meaning dropping rabbits to timber wolves with the one drawback of not being particularly effective on larger specimens"

Judy took the dart gun from the outstretched limb and holstered it. The [mammal] then walked off without a word but looking very pleased with himself for having 'educated' Judy. _Glad I never shot myself in the foot with it,_ she thought.

Nick wandered over to where Judy was gearing up. For this operation, her standard rabbit-spec uniform was swapped out for an all-black getup that was sans vest to reduce weight and make room for other equipment such as an earpiece and a side holster. As Nick arrived Judy was fitting a headlamp around the base of her ears.

"Not the usual ZPD colours..."

Judy looked at Nick and chuckled, "Heh, no."

"Looks good on you. Yeah, you can see why they say black is a slimming color."

"Oh, than... Hey what's that supposed to mean?!" Suddenly self-conscious, Judy clambered up on a car bonnet and used the windshield as a full-bunny mirror.

Amongst laughter that was borderline hysteric Nick said "My work here is done."

Rolling her eyes and sliding down from the vehicle, Judy said exasperatedly "Shouldn't you be on your way to the hotspot? You know, as opposed to shattering my self confidence?"

"Maybe... Alright." Nick put on a pair glasses with a hidden camera and a brown coat over inconspicuous clothing, he was going undercover-ish. The plan was for him to infiltrate the meeting of bigwig criminals to learn the identity of the 'crimelord'. He threw a wave in Bogo's direction.

After nodding in response to Nick's wave, chief Bogo spoke: "Officer Wilde is en-route to the hot zone. Once there, he'll go radio silent. Hopps is the fly on the wall and will be monitoring Wilde mid-op via the vents running through the building in the center of the zone. The ZMP are on station to bust in once we know the lay of the land. If necessary, Hopps has the plug, if she pulls it, all of you need to support any evac organized by them."

Nearby, a wolf marched between two lines of geared up mammals. It was Major Liam Pierce, of the Continental Troopers, brought in to command the ZMP or, Zootopia Military Police for this operation. "The ZPD is counting on you folks to either secure and capture the crimelord or if necessary, rescue that fox's sorry tail out of that joint." He spoke with an accent best described as south African.

The Military Police had several branches and were the closest thing to a functional army in the Continental Defense Force. The troopers were the elite, part of CDF's specwar division.

"We are going to go in there, we will hang those insipid criminals by their tails and make sure they know they could not have picked a worse enemy than the Continental Military!" by this point he was facing away from them. He turned abruptly "Am I right, mammals?"

"Sir yes sir!" they all said in unison.

Back on the other side, Bogo stood straight to speak again "The criminal underground has been unusally active since Bellwether's sedition was revealed." He paused "All going well, this is the final effort. After two years of strife, we go once more unto the breach to tie up the conspiracies and criminal overlords, to finish this fight. That is all, to your positions!"

As the ZPD officers milled about, the Military Police unit began to split. "Corporal Travis? Okay. Just as planned, You'll take team B to the South edge of the hot zone, on the signal, you move in and breach." commanded Maj. Pierce.

The ram he was addressing replied quickly, "Solid copy, sir." the corporal immediately signalled his team to move out, Pierce doing the same.

The Major spoke to both teams over radio; "Right. We have to stay on the edge of the zone, our vehicles get too close and we're seen, it's all over. However this does mean we'll be delayed in responding to whatever happens in there. Off your hocks, on your toes mammals!"

After a cautious jog, Nick had reached the building in the center of the hot zone. It used to be some kind of recreation facility some decades ago however it was recently discovered that criminals were using it as a meeting place for some time now. A listener had picked up that the crimelord was going to be there tonight, to discuss his plans and possibly recruit more meat.

Nick crept in through a window to discover the room was occupied by a rather ragged looking ram, sipping on something in a paper cup. He froze and the two stared at eachother.

The ram finally spoke: "What are you lookin' at fox? And why?"

Nick relaxed a little. "Well, I'm lookin' at you. Why? Because." He threw a mock salute at the wool clad fellow before moving deeper into the building.

Judy was watching from a safe distance. "Okay. The Pawpsicle is in the box. I'm taking my position." Once the coast was clear she dashed across the street and hid in a shadowed corner outside the building.

Benjamin Clawhauser was on the other end of the radio; "10-4 Talking Carrot. Keep us posted, Jelly-filled over and out."

Judy began to climb a steel pipe that ran the height of the wall. She started talking, pausing at each pawhold "Why do... You guys... Get cool, inventive nicknames... But..." Judy grunted as she lifted herself onto the roof of the building and stood in the pale moonlight. "But I get stuck with 'Talking Carrot'"

"It was your idea..." Came the radioed response

"Excuse me?"

"Nick said you insisted your callsign be 'Talking Carrot'."

Judy was not surprised. "Oh. Did he now? Well that's going to be a fun conversation..." Judy was not amused.

"I feel kinda bad now..." started Clawhauser who was interrupted by chief Bogo

"Focus! Timing is critical here. We don't have time for this nonsense. We'll deal with 'Pawpsicle's' misdeeds at a later date!"

Judy hopped over to a vent opening on the flat roof. With an electric screwdriver she unwound the screws holding the grate. After 4 screws tinked at her feet, Judy heaved the grate off the vent and placed it aside as quietly as possible. She slipped into the vent with a metallic thud, crawling through a space that was cramped even for her.

Clawhauser clicked on again "Okay you wanna take a left, that'll take you over corridor C." there was some angry murmuring before he spoke again, "A right. You want to hang a right over corrider _D_. Sorry, the map was backwards. I couldn't read the letters through the patches of, uh..."

"Donut glaze?"

"Maybe."

Nick had to bite down hard on his tongue to resist reacting to the ongoing radio comic. He scratched his ear to discreetly mute the distraction – he needed his wits about him.

Judy had made her way to a grate that overlooked a large room full of various mammals, _mostly predators_. This was the perfect spot for the fly on the wall. The room was about 20 feet across and 40-50 feet from end to end with square pillars every 10-20 feet along the sides, Judy couldn't begin to guess what the space was originally for.

Judy tapped her earpiece: "I am in position. No 20 on Pawpsicle."

"Acknowledged. We have his eyes and ears, he should be in visual range in about 10 seconds"

Judy counted seven as Nick stepped into view, he was directly underneath the vent opening as planned.

"Carrots to Pawpsicle, blend in a little, you're looking goofy." There was no response at all. "Quit ignoring me this isn't the time." he was being uncharacteristicly ignorant, or arrogant, or perhaps both.

"This is jelly-filled to Carrots."

"Don't you dare call me Carrots, Clawhauser" Judy retorted

"Oh, Um... Sorry? The board says Pawpsicle has muted his earpiece."

Things just get better and better. Judy had to get Nick's attention somehow, she reached into her pockets – nothing, which was to be expected as the black uniform was just tailored that morning. Her neck fur prickled out of discomfort with a tinge of panic, _there must be something I can do, like fling a penny or a button... A button!_ Judy frantically felt around the waist line of her pants. _There it is,_ she thought as she felt the plastic coated ticket and tore the spare button that was still stitched to it.

Judy was able to open the vent wide enough to take the shot. The button was flicked silently downwards, falling, almost tumbling towards the unsuspecting fox.

 _Direct Hit._

Seeing Nick flinch noticeably made Judy jump for joy, clunking hard into the ceiling of the vent. Thankfully, the denting thud was lost amongst the noise of the room below. Rubbing her forehead, Judy looked down to find Nick looking up at her, confused. She pointed to her ears exasperatedly, eyebrows in the stratosphere.

Nick nodded 'oh' and Clawhauser confirmed, "He should be able to hear us now."

"Carrots to Pawpsicle, stop standing in the middle of the room..." At which the bespectacled fox started to wander through the space, almost disappearing altogether.

Meanwhile in one of the ZMP trucks, Cpl. Travis' team were all dying of laughter, slapping their thighs and holding their sides in.

They had just regained their composure when one of the group started a mockery: "Don't you _dare_ call me Carrot!" the APC was full of guffaws and chuckles once again.

"Oh I hope Pierce and team A are enjoyin' this as much as we are!" said another.

The radio crackled; " _Major_ Pierce and team A are keeping their heads in the game."

After a brief silence the earlier trouble maker said " _Donut glaze_ ", sending a wave of masculine giggling through the compartment.

"All of you idiots shut up! Vehicle approaching the hot zone!" The atmosphere quickly changed. "On your toes, mammals..." The Major switched channels, "Major Pierce to Bogo. We have a eyes on a vehicle pulling up, they're parked. Should we engage?"

There was a slight pause. "N-negative."

"Recon?"

"Affirmative..." Bogo seemed very distant, elsewhere.

"What's your status chief?"

"Hm? Oh yes. Green - Fly is on the wall, pawpsicle is in, eyes and ears on. One minor slip but we're holding."

Liam cleared his throat before reiterating "Chief, not a very tactical time for a heart to heart but if you're compromised... Look, I technically outrank everybody here. Need I say more?"

"No, you needn't. I'll be fine. I just... I just have a bad feeling about this." Bogo still sounded weakly unsure, very unusual for the buffalo who's normally so stoic.

The Major shifted on his feet and checked his rifle, a semi-automatic tranq' firing contraption by the more and more prevalent Watterson Engineering and Development. He wasn't well used to using tranquilizers – he couldn't decide if this was a bad thing or not. There hadn't been a significant military conflict for decades, long before Liam was born and he was in his mid-40s at this point.

Whilst Judy was watching Nick quietly move about the room below, she couldn't help share Bogo's anxiety. Something felt very wrong, she just didn't know what. She heard a door open on the far end of the space so she clambered over to the next opening for a better look. Moving on all fours without hopping made locomotion slow and awkward for rabbits however it was much quieter for vent travel.

The mammals that filled the room talking amongst themselves had gone quiet. Someone placed a large chair in toward the back wall and promptly sat down on it. There was a ram either side of the newcomer, each carrying some model of tranquilizer gun she didn't recognize. His head was out of view, the only identifying features Judy could see were some shaggy dark brown hair, unguligrade feet; and a bleached white, expensive, politician grade suit.

Nick peeked between a dozen or so individuals to look at the creature in question. He couldn't see the ungulate's face for a shadow seemed to fall perfectly over it's head, preventing any decent imagery.

The newcomer tapped on the chair arm a few times before speaking in a voice like Samuel L. Jackson, "Don't mind me. Go about your business..."

A scraggly timberwolf stepped up. "We're here because of you... I think. Who are you anyway?"

"I am the one who called you here. You'll have to forgive my anonymity, If I trust you enough to bring you on, everything will become clear." Other mammals came over, asked questions of the debonair creature. In response, the mystery mammal talked a lot but didn't really say anything.

"I know that voice..." Said chief Bogo. "I'm sure I know that voice..."

"Certainly seems familiar. Can't see his face, the lighting's wrong."

Judy's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't ingore the feeling that something was amiss, no visual from any vents, shadows obscuring the face, even the positioning of furniture. Tables, cabinets place in a seemingly random fashion started to form a picture. It look as though it was planned almost like... _A staging area._

Biting her bottom lip, Judy prepared to speak. Before she could, she heard a voice come through from elsewhere. "Well, well, Nick. Fancy seein' you at this joint."

Nick turned and tried to keep his cover "Who, me...?" His voice trailed off as he saw who addressed him. "Duke Weaselton."


	8. PAP Draft Chapter 3 New Blurb

**Foreword**

The (incomplete) third chapter of my earliest draft.

* * *

 **Chapter III:** **Pulling** **The Plug**

 _If things keep going like this I'll get a heart arrhythmia_ Judy thought. "Weaselton is supposed to be locked up!" over the radio, Judy's forceful whisper hissed out of Clawhauser's reciever.

"Either way we didn't plan on him being here... He's a pirate peddler and a petty pilferer, this meet-up is a bit above his paygrade." explained Bogo.

Pierce bared his gritted teeth, angrily thinking: _Useless civillians. Poor planners, no wonder the city is crime-ridden_.

"Surprised to see me, copper?" Duke said in a disparaging tone.

"This crowd seems a little out of your league, Duke."

"The boss made me an offer, a deal." Weaselton indicated the mysterious ungulate, sitting in his chair like a king on a throne. "He'd bust me outta' jail if I worked for him, _only him_." Other mammals had started to take interest in the face-off happening between the two small predators. "He's gonna' be wanting to know about a cop stickin' his little purple nose in his business."

* * *

 **Final Words  
**

Well, I'm not going to lie, reading through this draft again, after so long, it doesn't seem as bad as I remember. But I guess that's just like any art I draw, I kind of hate it until I half-finish it, leave it for at least an hour then come back to it - then it's the most beautiful thing ever.

However it cannot be denied that there's so much lip-service to the film, dumb callbacks, stupid role-reversals and tasteless/unfunny/Shrek 2 caliber references that I'm just not sure what I was thinking at the time. It's so aware that it's a Zootopia follow-up and there's that whole 'here's a thing you recognize, just Zootopified, so that equals funny'.

I'm also not sure why I insisted the wolf's surname be spelled 'Pierce'.

Well, that's it for season one of my Zootopia themed short stories. Coming along shortly is the first chapter of _Deliverer One Lost_ , the novel length story all this stuff is made for. For now, here's the blurb that I may or may not have had to look up a how-to for.

 _ **Deliverer One Lost**_

Nick P. Wilde has been an officer of the law in the city of Zootopia for over a year now. He and his best friend and partner in busting crime, Judy Hopps, make a formidable duo. Even with the notorious Dawn Bellwether gone, things are not all peaceful in the megapolis.

After a series of tragic events, the inconceivable happens. Unable to be by Judy's side, Nick is lost despite his years of going it alone before meeting her. Even with the help of a mysterious feline, will he be able to free Zootopia?

A peculiar mix of neo-noir, sci-fi and action/adventure, _Deliverer One Lost_ is an exploration into attachment, tunnel vision and morality all whilst setting the stage for a whole new world.


End file.
